


The Proudest Fellow

by rabidchild67



Series: Kid!Neal Chronicles [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Adoption, De-Aged, Easter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Moz come to terms with the reality of Neal's situation. Well, Peter already has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proudest Fellow

**Author's Note:**

> Timestamp/prequel to [The Stream of Warm Impermanence](http://rabidchild67.livejournal.com/111660.html). It’s not necessary to have read that, but for the sake of this story, Neal has been de-aged and lives with Peter and El; he is 5 in this story. 
> 
> Title is a lyric from the song, "Easter Parade" by Irving Berlin - Happy Easter, everybody! This started out a lot fluffier in my head than it ended up…

Peter watched with barely concealed amusement as Neal carefully dressed himself, tucking his little polo shirt into his khakis and then taming his unruly waves with a comb wet-down under the bathroom sink’s faucet.

“Special day?” he prompted the boy.

Neal nodded vigorously. “Eathtah egg hunt today!” he slurred through his newly-vacated front teeth. “I’m gonna get the motht eggth, Daddy.”

Peter felt that familiar warm wriggling in his belly every time Neal called him “Daddy,” immediately followed by the inevitable stab of guilt. “You think so?”

“I know tho. I’m the betht at finding thingth.”

“You are that,” Peter had to admit – he’d found El’s grandmother’s sapphire earring when it had fallen inside a disused shoebox in her closet months before. “Well, hurry up so that we can get to school. Miss Amanda will be mad if you’re late.”

Neal grinned, his tiny pink tongue poking through the gap left by his missing teeth. “She’th never mad at me, Dad. I’m her little gentleman!”

“Oh you are, are you? You been flirting with Miss Amanda?”

Neal scoffed and turned red. “Yuck! I’m just a kid.”

“Good answer,” Peter replied under his breath and ushered Neal out the door and down the steps.

\----

Tiny Tots Academy pre-school and daycare, where Neal was enrolled, was only three blocks from the Burke residence, so Peter and Neal walked over, an aging Satchmo in tow. Their annual Easter Egg Hunt would take place in the playground that stood adjacent to the building, and Neal had talked of nothing else for an entire week. He practically vibrated with excitement each time they stopped at a street crossing, his small hand squirming inside Peter’s as he danced beside him. When they arrived at last, Peter let Neal's hand go and watched with fascination as he ran towards a group of children, who greeted him as if he were a conquering hero. It seemed the Caffrey charm was in-born and not a learned trait. 

Peter ambled with Satch over to a set of tables at the far end of the playground side where the other parents who were helping out had settled, deposited the tray of cookies El had spent most of the day before baking, and then settled himself with his dog on a nearby park bench. He watched as the teachers instructed their classes on the rules for the hunt, all of their little faces paying rapt attention, Neal included. At last, the time came for the hunt to begin, and soon the entire grounds were swarming with excited 2-to-5-yr olds looking for colorful plastic eggs and the small prizes they held inside.

“Almost, but not quite, like a swarm of locusts,” said a dry voice behind Peter. He craned his head back to see Moz standing there, watching the festivities with a detached air.

“Aw, they’re not so bad. More like a herd of puppies at this age. I can’t believe the energy they have.” Moz took a seat beside Peter and they sat in silence for a few minutes. “I see you couldn’t stay away,” Peter pointed out, suppressing a smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Suit,” Moz said calmly, but with an almost fatalistic air. “It’s what’s important to him. Now.”

Peter didn’t miss the emotion behind that statement. “Nothing they’ve come up with looks like it’d help,” he pointed out, not for the first time. It had been almost two years since Neal had mysteriously been turned into a child, with no apparent cause or cure. 

“Not that we’d know,” Moz said quietly.

“We’ve been through this before, Moz. I’m not going to let them experiment on him, not unless they can convince me it will work. He’s just a boy.”

“A 34-yr old boy,” Moz said and then sighed. “Is it wrong of me to want him back the way he was?”

Peter turned and looked at Moz until the other man finally turned to face him. “As wrong as it is for me to want him to stay this way now?” he asked quietly, giving voice to the thought that had become near-constant in his mind since Christmas.

“Suit!” Moz said, standing.

Peter met Moz’s shocked gaze without flinching. “He’s happy, Moz, as happy as any of those other kids out there. And he has friends, and interests, and a crush on his teacher.” Peter looked down at the dog leash he was twisting in his hands. “He’s lost almost all memory of who he was before. The doctors think that might be permanent --”

“They can’t know that for sure,” Moz interrupted.

“But what if it’s true? Then what happens if they do find a cure – he’s a grown man with no memory of who he is? With no time to grow, to learn, to _become a man_?”

Moz closed his mouth with an audible click and sat down abruptly. “Surely that won’t happen.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

They watched the children running and darting around the lawn for a few minutes in silence. “I got a lawyer,” Peter said at last, delivering the one piece of news he’d been dreading. “To see about adopting Neal.” Moz did not react, so Peter went on. “He needs a family. We can be that, El and me.” 

Moz removed his glasses and polished them on the tail of his shirt. “What, are you asking for my approval or something?”

“I’m asking for your understanding. We love him, so much it hurts sometimes. We just want to be a family, give him the stability he didn’t have… well, last time.”

Moz looked away, breathing through his nose for several minutes while the children descended on the snack table for cookies and lemonade. “You know I couldn’t deny a family to any child, least of all that child. But are you sure you’re ready for this, Peter? _Really sure_?”

Peter smiled, feeling his eyes fill with fond tears as he said, “He calls me ‘Daddy.’ I never thought one word would mean so much to me.”

“OK then. You don’t need my blessing, but it’s yours.” Moz sighed again. “We’re really giving up on getting him back?”

“I don’t think it’s doing any of us any good.”

They watched the knot of children ebb and flow, their eyes naturally falling on the object of their conversation. Neal, a flush to his cheeks, was regarding the basket of eggs of another, larger, boy, an intent expression on his face. Slowly, he sidled up beside the other boy, and his small hand darted out quickly, retrieving not one but three gold-colored plastic eggs from the boy’s basket. Neal then retreated, unnoticed.

Moz chuckled. “I guess he hasn’t forgotten _everything._ ”

“On the contrary,” Peter said, smiling himself. “Those golden eggs are supposed to be for the kids under 2 – they were easier to find. Look.” Neal had gone over to a group of toddlers, and was handing the gold eggs over, speaking gravely to their teacher.

“I guess he really is your son,” Moz said, shaking his head and smiling.

Peter beamed at him, then went to go and pick Neal up to kiss him. He’d never been prouder.

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
